


You and me against the world

by Phantom_writer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-07 23:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17970077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_writer/pseuds/Phantom_writer
Summary: Sam and Dean move to town to live with their uncle. After a lot of years being alone in the world, they must learn to trust other people with their lives, and the lives of each other. Not an easy Feat when everyone you’ve ever met has proven they can’t be trusted with a glass of water, much less that which the Winchester twins hold most dear. But they’re about to meet a group of people that seem to be determined to show them that they’re not going to be pushed away easily; Bobby’s new wife, Ellen, her daughter Jo, and Jo’s high school friends, also known as Bobby and Ellen’s surrogates; Benny, Crowley, Charlie and Twins, Castiel and Gabriel. For Dean, the first sign that his walls are crumbling is his protectiveness over Castiel after he witnesses the other teen being bashed for being gay – Dean and Sam are both gay themselves and hatred against gays really sets Dean’s blood boiling. A tentative relationship soon begins to form between the pair. For Sam the first signs that he’s following suit, is when Castiel’s brother, Gabe, convinces him to take a job at the bakery he works at for extra cash.





	1. Chapter One

The Impala pulled into a park and idled for a moment, purring like a beautiful animal. The two teens sitting inside it looked up at the building in front of them with the same sense of foreboding. They hadn’t gone to school in at least four years. Not since the death of their father presented them with more important challenges… like the effort to survive through the day, one day at a time.  
Now, here they were, attempting to keep a promise to their uncle to try and adjust back to being normal kids with a future.  
“Tell me again why we’re here, Sammy.”  
“We swore an oath to Bobby that we would at least give this a shot. What have we got to lose?”  
“Our lives?” the driver snorted.  
“Possibly, but then again. Can you honestly say high school is any worse than what we’ve been through before?”  
“Can you honestly say that it won’t?”  
“What’s the worst that could happen?”  
“Famous last words, Sammy, Famous last words.”  
“Dean, we’re gay, we’ve been living out of the back of our dead father’s beat-up impala. We have no education…”  
“Speak for yourself.” Dean boasted.  
“And we start fights to get food into our stomachs and clean clothes on our backs.” Sam added, speaking over the top of his brother, shooting the driver a bitchface.  
“Don’t look at me like that, Sammy, I hate that one. That one is always followed up with trouble. And I’m usually the one who gets into a fight that finishes it.”  
“That’s your fault for not letting me fight my own battles.”  
“You’re too much of a princess. Wouldn’t wanna mess that pretty face of yours.”  
This time the bitchface he got was the one that never failed to make him laugh because it almost came with the mental telepathic caption of ‘I’m gonna smack you in a minute you jerk’ every time his brother used it.  
“Come on, show time.” Dean changed the subject, smacking his brother on the chest with the back of his hand as he shifted to get out, hearing the bell go.  
Beside him, Sam sighed and did the same.  
“You do know I can fight my own battles, just as much as you. Right? I grew up the same way you did, Dean. I can handle myself.”  
“Sure, I know that.”  
“Do you? I’m your twin, not your fucking doll, or whatever.”  
Dean decided their conversation had to end now, so he shifted closer to his brother and threw his arm around his neck, pulling him into a headlock. He knuckled his brother’s hair and then kissed it before pushing him away. “Stop yer bitchin. And for the record, I am twenty minutes older than you are.”  
“Big deal! We shared the same womb together, and everything since then. We are twins. It’s about time you start treating me like it.”  
“Sure, princess.”  
By now, even Sam realized that Dean was shit stirring him. He sighed in annoyance, which turned into a real bitchface when Dean found the nearest person and got their attention, she was blonde with green eyes and a dusting of freckles. But neither twin noticed much else; not much to notice – ‘seen one girl, seen’em all’, as Dean would point out. “Hey, this is my twin, Princess Sam and I’m Dean, can you tell us where the admin building is to sign in.”  
“Uhh, it’s that building right there.” The girl said, giving them a weird look before walking away.  
Sam’s bitchface was still in place and only intensified when Dean turned to grin at him.  
“For fuck sake, Dean, seriously?”  
“Alright, fine. I’ll stop.”  
“Thank you. Here we are. The admin building. Did you call them and tell them we were coming?”  
“Nope. Bobby did it this morning while I was having a smoke out the back. Heard him talking about his ‘twins with the troubled youth who are staying with him’ to some bitch named Hannah.”  
“Why do you call everyone a bitch?”  
“I do not.”  
“Dude you even call me one.”  
“Because you are. ‘sides, you call me a jerk. So that makes us even.”  
“The difference is that you are a jerk, and I’m not.”  
Dean turned serious, all evidence of their nit-picking conversation just now gone. “I’m a jerk to everyone because no one has proven to me that they deserve to be treated differently. I’m a jerk to you because that’s how you let me blow off steam so that I don’t punch a wall or break someone’s face.”  
Sam cleared his throat, no retort on his tongue. Instead he rolled his eyes and pushed open the door to go inside.  
“We’re the Winchester boys. Are you Hannah?” Dean asked, stepping up to the front desk. It was about half the length of the room that ended with a wall which cut off the back office to the front and only accessed through a single wooden door in the middle with a small glass panel in the top half which showed Dean that there were more offices on the other side. Everything else looked like a typical school office; hardback plastic chairs along the wall on the opposite side, posters detailing school-y things; rules, morale do-hickey crap, sign-up sheets for school based activities – drama club and the like. Blah, blah, blah.  
The woman behind the desk, a young pretty thing with dark brown hair and pale skin, looked up from her computer. She was even younger than Dean realised as she stood and approached them. She had blue eyes and her mouth seemed to be permanently set to polite-smile. Again, neither twin noticed much more than that. It was only ever the eyes and a few minor details to give them a sense of how to react in a situation; flight or fight. This woman, like the girl outside, weren’t threatening, but they weren’t anything that would warrant a second thought, either.  
“Hi. Yes, I’m Hannah. Winchester? Oh, yes, of course, I spoke to your uncle earlier this morning.”  
“That’s right. I think he told you to expect us.”  
“Right. I did most of the paperwork while I was on the phone to him. I just need a few things from you two, and one signature from him to sign for proof of guardianship. But I already told him that. That’s this form here. See where I’ve marked it? Get him to sign there. And this…”  
“Why does he have to sign?” Dean asked.  
“It just lets us know here at the school that you do have a guardian.”  
“You mean, like a next of kin thing in case something happens?” Sam asked this time.  
For Hannah, it was obvious that these boys had no patience dealing with many other people. Their uncle had warned her that this might be the case, so she was prepared to show them more patience then she would otherwise show to a teenager who appeared to be rude and arrogant.  
“That’s right. You’re Dean?” she addressed Sam with the question.  
“I’m Dean, he’s Sam. And we’re next of kin.”  
“I’m sorry, but it’s policy that we need an adult over 18 to sign next of kin paperwork.”  
“But we…” Dean began.  
“Dean, we’re not in this alone anymore, remember? Just let it go. Face facts; Bobby has to be our next of kin here.” Sam reminded him. Dean huffed a deep sigh and his mouth twisted into something akin to a grimace before he nodded.  
“Yeah, right. Sure thing. Bobby’s next of kin then. Whatever.” Dean muttered. He didn’t think he would ever get used to having to put his, or, more importantly, his brother’s, life in the hands of some outsider wannabe with nothing to lose and everything to gain by having Dean and Sam under their control.  
“What else do we need to sign?” Sam took over while Dean stepped back to stew over having to let another person dictate his and his brother’s life.  
It had been him and Sam, alone, fending for themselves, for years. Four, since their father had died when they were a few weeks shy of their fourteenth birthdays, but more if you counted the fact that Dear Old Dad had been drinking himself into a coma almost nightly for the last however many years before that. Most of the time he’d leave his boys in a hotel room, or on the back seat of the Impala, while he drained the nearest pub, and their food money. Sam and Dean had had to fight off many scum bags looking for cheap thrills inside the bodies of defenceless children.  
By ten, they’d pretty much learned to be self-reliant, whether their father was present or not. In a hotel, they could cook basic meals to keep themselves fed. In the car they’d creep into outdoor dining restaurants and eat the leftovers from tables that had been vacated before the cleaning staff could come by and sweep everything back to the kitchens. In some of those cases, they’d been busted but when they’d been forced to give up the location of their ‘parents’ the staff had taken pity on them and given them food to take away, as long as they didn’t make a habit of stealing the ‘dregs’ of uneaten meals.  
In all their lives, no one had ever shown Dean that they could be trusted. No one but his brother could be relied upon when he needed someone to be there.  
And then, suddenly, after spending thirteen years believing he had no other family, Bobby showed up out of nowhere and said, ‘hey, I’m your mother’s brother, I have a place for you to live’. Yeah, sure he did. And what did he want in return?  
So far, nothing, but the day was coming. Dean knew it. One day this ‘uncle’ of theirs, if he even really was their uncle, was going to drop the other shoe and reveal his real motivation for taking two strange teenagers in off the street.  
He had a feeling that even if he had a future self that could prove he could trust Bobby he would still be suspicious of the man. Maybe he was jaded, like Sam was always accusing him of being.  
The woman let them go after a few moments with some papers; class lists, an impressively detailed map with the room for each class marked neatly but boldly, a list of source books the teachers required the students to read for the semester. Hell, the woman had even provided a list of prices for the cafeteria food.  
“Was it just me, or was she a little overly helpful?” Dean asked his brother as they walked down the hall to their first class.  
“You and your over active imagination. You’re so suspicious of everyone.”  
“Don’t give me that shit! You’re as suspicious as I am of everyone.”  
For the second time that morning, Sam’s retort died on his tongue. He nodded. “Yeah. I’m trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, though. I’d really like to have at least one more person in my life that I can trust.”  
Dean clutched his heart. “Your words wound.”  
“Shut up. Jerk.” Sam grinned. He pushed his brother playfully as they walked down the hall and that seemed to end their bickering. Their class was coming up and they needed to provide a united front to the outside world that threatened to tear them down.  
This time Dean was the one to open the door to their class and he gestured for Sam to go in ahead of him. As expected, their entrance turned heads but Dean ignored the class and zeroed in on the teacher at the front as he and his brother approached him. A man in his early forties, maybe, hazel eyes, the beginnings of a scruff on his chin, and a seemingly genuine smile.  
This class room was also backwards, so they had to walk down the centre aisle, past the students at the desks, to get to him. He stopped and stared at them and Dean felt like he had to turn around and run. But Sam was at his back, which made him relax a bit. He DID NOT like having so many people behind him like this. Too many chances for an ambush.  
Street Rat instincts kicking in.  
He brushed his hip in a subtle motion which only Sam noticed, because he was looking for it. The comforting feel of his knife hilt met his touch and Dean relaxed a tiny bit more, though he still felt like he needed to run from the room before he could be ambushed.  
“Yes? Who are you?” The teacher finally spoke when the boys got to his desk.  
“I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, we’ve just transferred. Are you Mister Monroe? The lady in the office said you’re our English teacher. She said to give you this to sign?” Sam handed over the sheet the office staff needed for the end of the day to mark their attendance.  
“Oh, right. Yes, I was told to expect you. Find a seat and then see me at the end of class so I can give you an overview of what you might need to catch up to the rest of the class.” The teacher told them, signing the sheet and handing it back before gesturing back behind the boys in a vague, general sweep of the room to indicate the seats available.  
“Right. So, obviously your eyes aren’t painted on; you can all see we have two new guys in the class. So get your staring out of your systems now, but save your disrupting noise for the lunch room. Anyone interrupting my lesson will be writing a four thousand word essay on the difference between Shakespeare and Lord Byron. Now, let’s get back to the lesson.”  
Sam and Dean both felt like they were walking to the gallows as they took their seats in the back; backs to the walls, eyes to the front, visual on every movement made by the other people in the room, Dean’s hand always just within reach of his knife hilt.  
But class went off without a hitch. Monroe was a stern teacher, ran a tight ship when lecturing. But he was also fair. He knew when to laugh at a student’s innocent slip up without being cruel about it. And he also knew when to come down hard on another student’s lazy work ethic when it came to handing in assignments. The students all seemed to like and respect him and he treated them like they were actually human.  
Which was more than Dean could say about the teacher they had next.  
She was a right royal bitch. She looked down her nose at the twins as they approached her to get the sheet signed, and it just went downhill from there.  
“Winchester. I don’t suppose you know how to add and subtract basic numbers? You’ve missed, what is it, four years of school? What happened, your mummy didn’t want to drive you?” she asked snidely when they introduced themselves and handed her the sheet to sign.  
The room erupted in snickers and snide comments. A few shot the boys pitying looks, some smirked at their misery, others looked glad to be out of the firing line today.  
“Actually, our mother was raped and killed thirteen years ago and our father was too busy getting drunk every night to remember our existence. So, while you’re right, we haven’t had an education in the last four years, you’ll do well to remember that we’re far from the village idiots.” Dean shot back at her, going for shock value; which seemed to work on some of the smirking teens, who looked down and away in shame when he mentioned the way his mother died. But the fact that he didn’t back down from the teacher, and even took a step up, getting in her face in clear challenge, enraged the woman.  
“Sit down, or you will find yourself in detention.”  
He sat down, but not before standing up to her for a moment longer so ensure she knew he would face up to her if she pushed him to it.  
After that, she targeted him and Sam for every question she asked. For the most part Sam answered, correctly, thank you very much, to save Dean from getting up and ‘breaking her fucking face on the fucking desk’.  
“Well, it seems that someone in that family can read, at least, but only time will tell if it’s enough for you to graduate.”  
That was when the bell went off.  
Good thing too, because Sam caught Dean’s hand reach for his blade and in a crazy premonition mental flash he saw Dean jump the desk and stick the leather bound blade hilt deep into her chest. He manhandled his brother out the door and shoved him down the hall to the closest bathroom. He checked the stalls to make sure they were alone before rounding on his brother and smacking the back of his head. “Are you fucking insane? You nearly lost your shit and knifed a fucking teacher you crazy asshole!”  
“You heard the shit she was saying about us in there!”  
“So what! It’s not the first time our intelligence has been questioned!”  
“No. But it is the first time it’s been questioned by a fucking bitch in front of twenty other witnesses! Man, Sammy, I, I can’t fucking go through that shit every day. I’ll fucking snap.”  
“We’ll deal with it. You and me. We always do. You and me against the world, brother.”  
“Against the world.” Dean repeated, nodding.  
“You wanna tell Bobby?”  
“And say what? That we have a bitch of a teacher that keeps picking on us? Like you said, we’ll deal with it. Us against the world.”  
Sam nodded.  
That ended their conversation and they turned and went to lunch.  
Jo, Bobby’s stepdaughter was already seated with a tray of food, which she passed around after she called them over and shamed them into sitting with her. She gave them both a salad sandwich and a coke and chatted about her day. “I heard you two stood up to Old Grinch.”  
“Dean did. He’s the hothead. When we had to stand our ground it was Dean that took on the fight. I learned to keep my cool for both of us.” Sam told her. Her mother, Ellen, had only recently married Bobby before he brought Sam and Dean home, so apparently this made Jo their cousin, or whatever. She was a year below them in school so they didn’t have any classes with her, and yet, she’d still, somehow, heard about Math class with Grimshaw.  
After a while, a short British kid wearing an entirely black outfit sat down next to Dean and introduced himself before Jo could as Fergus Crowley. “My mother was Irish, which is where the name Fergus comes from, but I was born and raised in England before coming here. Mum’s a lawyer and her firm back in London promoted her and asked her to head up their Branch here in Austen. So, here I am. Oh, yeah, don’t ever call me Fergus. I only answer to Crowley, got it?”  
“Cool. I’m a street rat, with no parents and an uncle I’ve just met.” Dean retorted, feeling a bit defensive with this kid’s apparent glamorous home life.  
“Sweet. You and I are going to be good friends. Here, have my fruit squeeze, mum threw it at me as I was leaving this morning, said she wants me to start eating healthy. Please, burgers are my life. You’re not gonna catch me shovelling healthy shit into this mouth.”  
Dean yelped and picked it up between his thumb and forefinger like it was a rotten tomato that had tried to attack him and flicked it at Sam. “No thanks, I’d rather starve than eat that shit. What is a fruit… whatever that thing is, anyway?”  
“The TV adds talk about it like it’s some kind of pureed fruit. Supposed to be popular with toddlers.”  
“Remind me again, how old does your mother think you are?”  
Crowley smirked at him, but before he could say anything else, Jo interrupted them and gestured beside her. A boy about Dean’s age sat there glancing shyly at him from under his eyelashes. His black hair was in disarray, like he’d just gotten out of bed after a vigorous sex marathon with an animal. He had blue eyes the likes of which Dean had never seen before and he gulped down a shot of arousal and shifted in his seat. Blue eyes had always turned him on. He wore a tan trench coat over a pair of black trousers and white shirt. He screamed Submissive and Dean growled for some strange reason.  
“This is Castiel. And Gabriel, over there, is his twin. Cassie, this is Dean. My cousin. Sam is his twin. They’ve just moved in with us. Dean, Castiel was the one who told me about Old Grinch. He’s in your class. Said it was an impressive display of male dominance. Gabe reckons you’re a bad ass mother fucker; high praise coming from these two.” Jo told him.  
“Joanna Beth Harvelle-Singer, who taught you to swear like a Street Rat?” Sam scolded her teasingly.  
Dean shot him a look that translated into an entire conversation between the twins. Sam was as uncomfortable being surrounded by so many strangers, as Dean was. But Sam was trying hard not to be, and doing a better job at it. If Dean was suspicious and untrusting of their sudden good fortune, Sam was trying to accept it, wanting to believe it would last. Teasing Jo, as forced as it was, was only another attempt at trying to fit in.  
Finally Dean nodded and looked away.  
Straight into the deep pools of blue eyes. He inhaled sharply. He hadn’t realised that he was being watched while he’d been focused on his brother. His eyes narrowed into a challenging glare and Castiel blushed and looked away.  
“Yo, Jo, who’s this?” It was the deep southern accented baritone of another teen who had appeared over Jo’s right shoulder.  
He was taller than Crowley and dressed more casually in blue jeans and a grey sweater. His hair was dark and his eyes were full of laughter – mocking or otherwise, Dean couldn’t decide, but they didn’t make him want to run away from an ambush.  
“Hmm, hey, Benny, these are my cousins, Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean, Sam, this is Benny. And the girl over there is his adopted sister Charlie. Hey Charlie, come and meet my cousins.”  
“Must I?”  
“Get over here and meet the woman’s cousins and stop being a brat.” Benny snapped.  
Charlie, a red head who was dressed in a LARP costume, trudged over to them like it was a chore.  
“You like LARPing too? My brother is a huge fan.” Sam told the girl, gesturing to Dean, who took a page out of his twin’s book and shot him the severest bitch face he could muster up.  
“Shut it, Samantha!”  
Beside him, Crowley burst out laughing. “I thought his name was Moose. But Samantha is even better.”  
Dean smiled quickly, like he was trying to fit in – like Sam – but he was pretty sure he was failing miserably.  
But Charlie’s interest was piqued and she pushed her way between Castiel and Jo across from him and sat down. “You LARP? Seriously? I’d have had you pegged as some mechanical enthusiastic asshole.”  
“I am a mechanic enthusiastic asshole. I also like to do a bit of LARP. It gets me out of my head.”  
“It’s very dark and twisted in there.” Sam told her for his brother.  
“Shut it!” Dean snapped at him again.  
“It’s true though.” Sam was remorseless.  
He also had a point. You don’t live the way they did as kids and grow up warm and fuzzy and well adjusted. That knife in Dean’s hip holster wasn’t just decoration, either. It may not be visible, but it had blood on it. Lots of it. Even Dean’s.  
Dean let it go. If he argued with his brother on the subject Sam would only share more details with the group. Details which Dean didn’t want being shared. He’d done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of in the name of survival, and it had stayed with him – messed with his mind on a daily basis – that didn’t mean he wanted people to know about it.  
After lunch the boys had metal work. This time Dean took notice of the other kids, specifically, Castiel and his brother Gabriel and the other kid from lunch, Crowley. By now the novelty of Dean and Sam’s arrival at the school had worn off, and only a few of them were still snickering quietly to their friends. Dean had heard a few of them whisper about the twins’ good looks. One girl in particular had hinted to her friend that she’d have Dean in her bed by the end of the week, her friend had responded that she’d have Sam.  
“The one slobbering over you is Lisa Braeden. The other one is Becky Rosen.”  
Dean jumped and then smacked himself mentally. It was just Crowley, but still, someone had gotten close to him without him seeing. “Oh, yeah? And what’s their damage?”  
Crowley snorted. “Nothing, if you like the easy lay. Me, I’d rather work for my meals.”  
This time it was Dean’s turn to snort in response to the comment. “In other words, steer the fuck clear of those two. Shouldn’t be too hard. They don’t do it for me.” Across the room Castiel made some kind of movement that pulled Dean’s attention over to him as he spoke, and it was something in that look that made Crowley understand what Dean was referring to.  
“Well, as long as those girls don’t have an excuse to join our table at lunch, I’m all good. That,” Crowley pointed over to where Gabe was now inspecting a nasty looking cut on his brother’s hand while the teacher, Mister Garrison, rushed over with the first aid kit, “That, however, even I don’t work that hard for my meals.”  
Dean’s attention snapped back to Crowley. “What’s that supposed to mean?” it was a defensive comment in a defensive tone.  
“Cas and Gabe are both gay, for sure. But they’re also very shy about it. Parents are religious nuts. Their uncle, Chuck, is gay and their parents disowned him and now they sprout homophobic propaganda. The boys confessed to the table, but they’re terrified of coming out to their parents.”  
“Explains a lot.” Dean mused.  
“What’s that supposed to mean.” Crowley quoted.  
“Why Castiel seemed so submissive at lunch. I hate homophobic fucks. Sam and I have been targeted on more than one occasion before we began standing up for ourselves. It’s never nice. It never ends well.”  
“Yeah, well we try to look out for them, but we can’t always be there when shit goes down.”  
“Yeah.”  
Their conversation dropped off as they began to re-focus on their metal projects. Something about making a metal lock box, according to the teacher. Crowley’s project looked somewhat in the range of ‘box’, though one that might have been run over by a Mack truck a couple times before being dropped over the side of a cliff.  
Dean laughed uncontrollably when the Brit presented his to the teacher at the end of the class and then produced his own box; perfectly aligned on all sides, hinges of the door tightly screwed in place and the locking chamber in perfect working order.  
Crowley scowled at him and Dean smirked back. He wasn’t about to tell the kid that he and Sam had had to improvise with a lot of things while they were on their own; building and construction had been one of those things, especially when it came to shelter.  
When the bell had finally signalled the release of the ‘prisoners’ for the day Dean and Sam walked casually to the Impala, in no particular hurry to get home for anything. Despite the events in math class their day had gone well. Benny had joined the boys for their final two classes and he and Crowley stuck to Dean, while Sam had gravitated over to Castiel and Gabriel. It had been a new experience, not having each other within reaching distance, but they’d survived.  
“So, today went well.” Sam commented.  
“For you, maybe. I had so many girls sleazing all over me I’m gonna need a fucking shower. I feel dirty and slimy. God, give me a fucking man to bury myself into and all will be right with the world again.” Dean muttered.  
“A man, as in Castiel Novak?”  
“What?”  
“I saw the way you were watching him.”  
“Only because you were panting after his brother.”  
“I’m not denying it. Gabriel Novak is a fine piece of ass.”  
“Ah huh. And what if I was to tell you their parents are religious fucks who bible bash homophobic bullshit into their fucking skulls?”  
Sam’s face darkened. “Then I’d tell you that they wouldn’t want to let me hear the shit because I’d likely bash something else into theirs.”  
Dean smirked and nodded. “That’s my brother. I was just telling you, to warn you, it’s not going to be easy. If you decide you want to date the kid it’s going to take a lot of work. Especially for us. We don’t trust anyone and it’s going against everything we’ve learned in our lives. But hey. If its what you want, I got your back.”  
“Like always, brother.” Sam finished. He held up his fist and Dean met it with his own. They bumped twice before parting to walk up either side of their car. This time Sam drove.  
After a while Sam asked, “So, you think we could stay?”  
Dean shrugged non-committedly and didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what the future held for them here and he didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep later.  
“Maybe you could try getting Castiel to go on a date with you.” Sam suggested.  
“Yeah, maybe. Just drive, Sammy. Watch the road, dude.”  
“I know how to drive, Dean.”  
“So then do it!”  
“Dude, what’s with you today?”  
Dean sighed, his mind flashing onto a pair of blue eyes and an awkward smile.  
He’d tried to speak to Castiel after metal class while he was waiting for Sam to get assessed on his lock box but the other teen had been clearly dismissive of any of Dean’s attention, only answering with short, clipped single syllables; yes, no, sure, no, sure, a shrug, yes, might, sure.  
It had bugged Dean to no end and eventually he’d just given up and walked away. Sam had finished with the teacher by then anyway. They’d had Biology and then History after that. He’d never gone so long not having his brother at his shoulder, but he’d kept most of his attention directed to Sam’s table and was ready for anything if he had to fight his way to his twin.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no one home that afternoon so the boys had to make a detour and pick up the key from their ‘uncle’ at the garage. Dean still wasn’t convinced Bobby was their uncle so until he was the word ‘Uncle’ was a relative term.  
Sam went in and got it while Dean stayed out by the car, leaning against the hood, peeling an orange and eating it in segments. A red Porsche pulled up beside him and Lisa Braeden got out, sashaying her mini skirted hips as she passed him. He spared her a glance, just one to tell him who it was before he returned his attention back to his fruit. He was vaguely aware that she went into Bobby’s shop, but he was more aware of the man riding shot gun in the Porsche.  
“Come on, Sammy, I wanna get outta here.” Dean muttered to himself, sensing trouble as the passenger of the Porsche got out and headed to the front of the two cars, where Dean was inching towards the blade that had been begging to be used all day.  
“Like what you see?” the stranger asked, leaning against the hood of the Porsche and smirking at Dean like he expected Dean to begin drooling all over it and turn green with envy.  
“The girl? No. Not really. The car? Definitely not. They’re both dressed up too much. Give me a classic muscle car any day.” Dean answered honestly. He was going to get into a fight with this guy no matter what he said, may as well be honest.  
“What the fuck did you just say, fuckwad?”  
Dean simply shrugged and ate another segment of Orange. “You heard me. You wouldn’t have gotten defensive and tried to insult me by calling me names, if you hadn’t.”  
“Man, I will fuck you up!” the name-less guy boasted, stepping up into Dean’s face. But Dean was faster. He got to his feet, orange replaced with blade. He closed the gap between him and his opponent and looked into the man’s eyes for the moment the blade registered in his brain.  
“Nah, I’m thinking I’ma fuck you up, you ever come at me like that again. See, right now, the point of this blade is wedged between your second and third rib, one quick thrust, lung deflates, fills with blood. Two, maybe three, hours of excruciating pain before you eventually die. That’s if you don’t get to a hospital immediately. If you do, and you’re lucky enough to get an exceptional doctor who can drain the blood and reinflate your lung, it’s gonna be a bitch of a recovery for a few months. Ever break a rib, pal? I’ve had all of mine broken, all at once, a deflated lung is worse.”  
“DEAN!” Sam shouted in alarm when he saw his brother standing up to some random guy he’d never seen before. But then, duh, this was his brother he was talking about, “Are you ok?” he asked, less concerned, though he was definitely very alert as he walked back to the car, wondering if his brother needed him at his side.  
“Fine. This guy was just telling me about his piece of shit Porsche.” Dean answered. His blade was gone in the blink of an eye, and as Sam opened the car door, Dean lifted his hands, palm out, and shoved the wannabe thug back and away from him and smirked as the weirdo stumbled back and fell on his ass.  
“Oh, by the way, we’re the Winchesters, bitch.”  
Dean didn’t expect anyone around here to know what that meant, but it had always been something he and his brother had done as they moved from town to town. They had a reputation, if you knew who to ask, if you didn’t know them by name, you knew them by reputation.  
“What was that all about?” Sam asked him as they drove away. By now, Lisa had reappeared and was staring after them as she tried to help her passenger to his feet. Not an easy feat in the hooker heels she was wearing. The heels on those things were longer than Dean’s prick!  
“Dunno. Guy was looking for a fight the moment the car pulled up. Asked me if I liked what I saw. Didn’t stop to think if he was talking about the car or the girl with him. I said no to both so he called me a fuckwad, of all things.”  
“Wait, the girl, that’s Lisa from school, right?”  
“Yeah, guess so.”  
“So, he wanted, what, for you to hit on her or something?”  
“I guess. He looked so cock-sure. It didn’t go down well when I told him I didn’t find either the girl or the car attractive.”  
“And he got in your face about it? How far did you get the blade?”  
“Not far. I pressed it against his ribs, but didn’t break the skin. You came back before it got that far.”  
Sam nodded. “Figured it was something like that. If you’d gotten the blade in, he wouldn’t have been breathing.”  
This time Dean nodded in agreement and nothing was said on the matter again.  
Dean fiddled with the radio and came to a classic rock station and grinned over at his twin, who rolled his eyes and mentally bit his tongue. They’d had many debates about the kind of music they played in the car. Sam liked the modern music – Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga and all the stuff being played on popular radio stations. But Dean loved classic rock; ACDC, Kansas, even a little bit of Bon Jovi occasionally. It was probably the only thing in their lives the twins disagreed upon.  
Before the music could annoy Sam too much, they were back at Bobby’s place and they pulled up to the side of the big house and got out.  
Inside, Dean raided the fridge for a feed and Sam went up to their room to start on their homework. Dean wasn’t as book smart as Sam, in fact, he’d always struggled with school as a child because he lacked the attention span for it. ADHD, they called it. But Sammy thrived in the classroom. He drank the lessons in like a sponge and between the two of them, they got by.  
It was the same when it came to surviving the streets; Sammy could fight. He was a mean fighter, for sure. But Sam could never match his brother in hand to hand, just as Dean could never match Sam in school. Dean was brutal, savage, vicious, and unrelenting when it came to surviving on the streets.  
So, while Sam got their homework sorted, Dean set about creating the biggest sandwich he could. He started off with bread, a layer of cheese and ham, and then just got more ridiculous from there. He added a pork chop, which had been shredded from the bone, another piece of cheese, a burger patty, tomato sauce, another patty, mustard, more ham. Then on went another slice of bread, more ham, bacon, cheese, bacon – again, another patty, bacon and cheese, ham, another squirt of tomato sauce and more bacon. Finally, a last layer of ham and cheese and the third piece of bread went on top.   
“Hmm, I’m gonna need a bigger mouth.” He muttered before snickering to himself. “Yo! Sammy, you hungry?” he yelled out.  
“Nah, not really. Could do with a coke, though.” Sam answered back.  
Dean shrugged and dug around in the fridge for his brother’s coke, grabbing one for himself. He carried them and his over-the-top sandwich up to the room he shared with his twin and silently set the drink beside him. Sammy hated being distracted while he studied. He dug into his sandwich while he watched his brother work; there was something in the way Sam worked on his books that helped Dean pick up more by watching him than he ever could by listening to a teacher drone on about the subject in a classroom. His brother had a calming effect on him, too, so it helped when Sam had to explain what Dean didn’t understand.  
Finally, Sam looked up from his books and turned to Dean. He’d managed to eat the sandwich, but he was still struggling with the last bite, which had been packed into his mouth until his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel with nuts in its mouth.   
Sam merely shook his head. Dean still wasn’t used to having a fridge full of food and the habit of eating as much as he could while he could was set deep into his psyche.  
“How much did you get done?” Dean asked casually.   
“I got your homework done. I’ve still got mine to go yet.”  
“Nerd.”  
Sam didn’t bother responding to his brother’s name calling. It was kind of true, to be honest.  
“Yeah, well, it passes the time.”  
“Hmm, me? Give me a well hung man with a needy hole any day of the week. I’ll pass the time quiet happily.”  
“Why would you need a well hung man, you don’t bottom, so it’s not like they’d be getting it up there. Me? I don’t mind having it; waste not want not.”  
“Hmm, true. But it’s better for my health to see a big dick right before I pound into the ass.”  
Sam rolled his eyes and didn’t comment. Instead, he changed the subject; “So, these twins from school. They’d be Jo’s friends. You think she’d mind if I tried to get into Gabriel’s pants?”  
Dean smirked, one corner of his mouth turning up in that familiar way he had when he was about to encourage some bad behaviour. “When has that ever stopped you?”  
“I don’t want to piss her off if things go bad. She could have us thrown out of here.”  
“So? We’ve been there before, Sammy. We can do it again. We always survive.”  
“I like it here, Dean. Roof over our heads. Food in our stomachs. Fresh, food. Food we haven’t had to scrounge out of a bin. It’s right there, downstairs. A pantry full, and a fridge overloaded. Not to mention the hot showers and proper beds.”  
“Hey, you saying I can’t take care of us?”  
“Are you saying you don’t like it here?”  
“Course I like having those things. I just don’t trust that it’s going to last. It never does for us. Better to keep a distance. That means not making ties that are gonna hurt when it does go to shit.”  
“I noticed you didn’t say you liked being here.” Sam mused.  
“What? Yes I did.”  
“No, you just said you liked having food, shelter, a place to sleep and hot showers. You didn’t say you liked having those things here, with Uncle Bobby, Ellen and Jo.”  
“There’s a difference?”  
“Yes, and you know there is.”  
Dean huffed in annoyance. “Alright, fine. You’re right. I didn’t say I liked being here. But not because they’ve been good to us. On the contrary, they’ve been too good to us. I told you, it never lasts for us. I’m going to enjoy being here while we’re here. But I’m not going to let myself believe it’ll be on offer for long. We’re charity cases as far as these people are concerned. And I hate being a charity case.”  
“You’re right. I suppose, we have been here before.”  
“This is just another foster home. And when things do go south we’ll be better off without any ties to this place. So, if you’re going to play with this guy, make sure it’s quick and painless. We can at least leave here without breaking any hearts and making a town full of people hate us.”  
Sam nodded sadly.   
“Don’t do that. I hate when you give me that look.” Dean scolded his brother.  
“What look?”  
“You look like I just killed your puppy.”  
“You did. Three years ago.”  
“Hey! It was an accident. It wasn’t my fault that the stupid bugger was behind the back tyre. And, I can’t believe you’re still bringing that up.”  
“You hated that dog.” Sam argued.  
“No I didn’t.”  
“Whatever.” Sam laughed.  
“Still. You gave me that same look.”  
“Dude, you killed my dog.”  
“Yes, and? He got under my back tyre. How was I supposed to know?” Dean was remorseless. Sam simply shook his head; he knew Dean would keep protesting his innocence, besides, it really had been an accident, and his twin really had been upset about it at the time.  
“Go get me a sandwich, I’m hungry.”  
“Dude, I asked if you wanted one!”  
“I didn’t want one then.”  
“What did your last slave die of?”  
“Boredom. Now go get me a sandwich.”  
“Get it yourself, you little bitch.”  
“I’m doing your homework, Jerk.”  
“Bitch.”  
“Jerk.”  
“Alright! Fine. I’ll get your damn sandwich. But you’d better make me look good on those essays.”  
Dean pretended to storm out in a huff, but Sam simply rolled his eyes and returned to his books. This time he was finished a lot faster. When it came to doing his own work rather than Dean’s it usually took less time because he actually took notes for himself. With Dean being ADHD he could never focus on any one task at a time, which was why Sam stepped in for them both.  
When they’d been kids, going to school regularly, Dean had often been mistaken as stupid. It was mostly why Dean had started fighting. Everyone had picked on him. Called him names, said he was dumb; even the teachers told him he was useless and a waste of their time trying to teach him.  
But Sam had always known better; his twin was the smartest person he knew, when it mattered.   
And then one day, after one of the worst fights Dean had gotten into, Sam had taken over Dean’s school work. Suddenly he wasn’t such a bad student.  
But Dean was still self-conscious about his ADHD. And their father wasn’t around to care much, so that left the two pre-teens to muddle through. It was how they’d learned about their strengths and weaknesses – where they’d learned Dean’s strengths and weaknesses.  
Book work? Nada.  
Constructing and destructing things – usually faces, or cars? Sure, just point him the right direction and he’d have the task completed in no time. Dean had once constructed a shanty style hidey hole for them one night, the first winter after their father had died, out of rusted sheets of metal, the car, and some wood. They’d frozen their asses off, but they hadn’t died of frostbite, either. In fact, it had probably been one of the better ‘huts’ they’d slept in for a long time. And had never seen anything to match it since.  
Dean was a fighter, in the strongest sense of the word. Throw the guy into any situation and Sam would bet his brother would walk away from it, beat up, for sure, but definitely walking. Ok, maybe it would be more like limping, but still… his brother would come away from the situation on his own, anyone else would be carried away, himself included.  
Sam loved that about his twin. More than a couple times he’d had to stand on the side lines while Dean had literally fought off poachers wanting the meagre scraps the boys had gathered to eat. And Dean had a habit of hiding weapons he’d hand made in various places on his body, which meant that any unlucky opponent quickly learned that Dean was not one to fuck with.  
They often fought about who was the better brother; Sam with his book smarts and eidetic memory. Or was it Dean?   
Neither of them ever won that fight.  
Dean was convinced he’d never amount to anything and always heaped the attention on Sam whenever there was some kind of award. Dean never thought twice about praising any of Sam’s achievements. But if Sam ever tried to return the favour, like that time with the shanty hut he’d made, Dean would get mad and refuse to take credit for anything.  
The thoughts of his brother’s unsung achievements distracted Sam to the point of madness. He had to do something for his brother. But that was easier said than done.  
Suddenly he was roused from his thoughts when a plate was dropped in front of him. Dean stood at his shoulder, holding his second can of coke in one hand while the other pushed the plate away from the edge of the desk. “You ok, bro? Not often I get the drop on you like that.”  
“Yeah. I was just thinking.”  
“Oh yeah? How naked did he get?”  
Sam shot his brother the biggest bitch face he could muster. “Jerk.”  
“We really gonna start this game again? What were you thinking about?”  
“Nothing that concerns you, nosy fuck.”  
“So, then it must have been Novak. Is he hung, at least?”  
Sam would have told his brother to go fuck himself, but at that moment a car door shut and then the front door did as well. “Sam! Dean! Are you boys home?”  
“Ellen’s home.” Dean said needlessly.  
“We’re upstairs, Ellen.” Sam called back.  
“Have you kids eaten?” Ellen asked, this time sounding much closer. And sure enough, she appeared in the door way a short time later and smiled. Dean scowled back.  
Ellen had learned to ignore his death stares in the last few weeks; she knew they weren’t a personal attack against her. They hurt, for sure, but they weren’t directed at her in a way that would imply she’d done something wrong. They had both lived a hard life, one without a tender parent. They’d been forced to grow up fighting for survival. Trust would be hard won on her part as far as they were concerned.  
“Yes, thank you, Ellen, we’ve just had a couple of sandwiches.” Sam told her politely.  
“Good to hear. I’m about to start dinner. It will be done at Six, so get whatever homework or activity done by then. Wash up, whatever. Bobby will be home about five thirty.”  
“We know the drill by now, thanks.” Dean snapped.  
“Dean, cool it, will you.”  
Dean grunted a response not fit for Ellen’s ears and flopped down onto his bed, ignoring the looks he was getting – the bitch face from his brother and the barely concealed hurt from Ellen.  
“Thank you, Ellen. We appreciate it all.” Sam told her, hoping to smooth over any offence his brother had caused.  
When she’d left Sam turned on his brother. “What was that?”  
“What was what?” Dean retorted.  
“Why’d you snap at her like that?”  
“Because she tells us the same damn thing every afternoon. Like we’re idiots that need reminding every day to do the same thing. We’re not idiots, Sam. At least, you’re not. I hate being told what to do.”  
Sam got it and his frustration with his brother waned.  
For years, he and Dean had done as they’d pleased; eaten when they were hungry, showered if and when they felt like it. For Dean, he’d aged past needing a parent, and now, suddenly he had a couple who wanted to do exactly that; parent him, like an idiot child.  
“They’re only trying to make us feel like we belong, Dean.”  
“Oh yeah? Well it’s not working. I’m tired of being told what to do.”  
Dean proceeded to sulk for the rest of the afternoon while Sam went back over their homework assignments and fixed the errors he’d made the first time around. They were both quiet for a long time. Neither of them needed verbal cues from each other to know when to begin a conversation again.  
It was Sam that spoke first. “You over your sulk or are you going to skip dinner tonight?”  
“Fuck you, bitch.”  
They got up together and left the room, bickering, as usual, about whether they were clean and presentable enough for dinner. Sam argued that Dean should have a shower. Dean shoved him into the wall and simply refused.  
Something he soon regretted when he realised Jo had brought company.  
“Since when are we feeding the neighbourhood?” he asked, a little snidely, reaching for a dinner roll from the centre of the table as he threw one leg over the back of his chair and sat down, heavily. He turned to smirk at his neighbour – none other than Castiel Novak.  
Castiel hung his head shyly and fidgeted with his jean clad thigh. “Do I make you nervous?” Dean asked him. Beside him his twin struck up an easier conversation with his own crush; Gabriel was more than happy to receive the attention.  
“You’re so full of yourself, you know that?” Castiel scolded him.  
“Ah! He does talk!” Dean mocked.  
“Yes, isn’t it a shocker? I talk, and I do cartwheels as well.”  
“Holy shit. And he’s sarcastic to boot. Be still my beating heart, I think I’m in love!” Dean declared, making Castiel blush as red as a tomato and hung his head again.  
“Dean, knock it off, Castiel’s just had a fight with his parents. Leave him alone.” Jo warned.  
“Hmm. In that case, Castiel, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be an ass.”  
“No, because that’s his default setting, so ignore him.” Sam interrupted.  
“It is not!” Dean frowned. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what was the fight about?”  
“Why would you care?” Castiel snapped.  
“We told our parents that we are gay.” Gabriel admitted at the same time.  
“Oh. Wow. That’s big. How’d they take it?” Dean asked, still completely focused on Castiel, trying to get his attention.  
“Not well.” Gabe answered again.  
“They threw them out and told them never to come back.” Jo supplied helpfully. Gabriel nodded.  
“Oh. Ouch.” Dean cringed.  
“You boys need a place to stay, we have a spare room if you would like to stay here.” Bobby offered as he appeared and took his seat, handing Sam and Dean a bottle of beer each.  
Dean accepted his and immediately took a big gulp. Sam accepted his own, but didn’t take a drink, busy as he was, talking to Gabriel.  
“You let your sons drink alcohol?” Gabriel asked in utter shock, eyeing the bottle in Sam’s hand and the absolute professionalism in the way Sam removed the top.  
“They’re not my sons. They’re my sister’s kids.”  
“So he says.” Dean muttered.  
“And yes, I let them drink because they’re not like other kids your age. They’ve been drinking for more years then I care to find out. And Dean, I have something for you to read.”  
“What is it?” Dean asked, taking the yellow Manilla envelope Bobby handed him.  
“Open it.”  
Dean shot the man a dubious look and opened it. He removed three sheets of paper. The first sheet was hard to read, except for the line of text that jumped out at him like a freight train; “Mary Winchester nee Campbell, adopted into the Singer family at age four. Birth parents deceased. No other blood relatives.” He read aloud.  
“Adoption papers of your mother when she was brought into my parents’ home. I was about ten at the time.”  
“So, what am I supposed to do with this?”  
“Nothing. Just wanted to show you that family don’t end with blood, boy. It don’t have to run in my veins for you to be my nephews, Dean. Family is family and you’re mine. Now read the next two pages.”  
Dean handed the first page to his twin and began reading the next piece of paper. “This one looks like an application to adopt a child. But I don’t… what does this mean?”  
“Before she died, your mum asked me to sign that. She knew that if anything happened to her, your dad would not be able to take care of you. You boys were staying here that weekend. Do you remember? Mary and John had gone away for their anniversary. John rang me and told me they’d been mugged and that he’d been forced to watch the fuckers rape and torture her to death. The next night, you boys were gone. He’d taken you from your beds in the middle of the night. I signed the paperwork just in case you were ever found. Which leads to the third piece of paper.”  
Dean, following the older man’s prompts, handed the adoption paper to his twin and looked down at the last sheet. “This one says you’re our legal guardian. It’s dated twelve years ago.”  
“That’s right. And I’ve been trying to find you kids ever since. There’s another bit of paper in there though. Take it out and read it.”  
Dean shot the man a questioning look and looked inside the envelope for the form he’d mentioned.   
“What does it say, Dean?” His twin asked.  
“It says… It’s… it’s a consent form. Bobby wants to adopt us officially.” Dean answered, his voice broken and barely a whisper as he spoke. He didn’t know how to take it.  
“Oh.” Sam shared his brother’s shock. And his distrust. Despite his dream of one day belonging somewhere other than with his brother, suddenly having that in his face was a lot for him to take in.  
Their dinner that night went by in absolute silence on the brothers’ part. Bobby and Ellen quietly discussed the intention to adopt the boys. Ellen suggested maybe it had been too soon to bring it up. Bobby argued that he wanted to prove that he was in this for the long haul. Sam and Dean listened, exchanging a few loaded glances but otherwise let Bobby and his wife believe they weren’t listening.  
Dean took the time to recycle the entire scene. Bobby had done what he thought was right, but Dean was still on the fence about whether the man could be trusted. Not even Sam, the one who wanted a family so badly that he was willing to stay here past the time frame they’d agreed upon when they got here, knew how to process this.  
Neither twin were aware that Jo and her friends were talking to them, or that Jo had asked Dean if he and Sam wanted to hang out after dinner.   
The boys finished their meal and then took their plates to the sink to begin washing up. Jo brought hers over, followed by Castiel, who brought his and his brother’s. Castiel asked if Dean was alright, but it didn’t compute in Dean’s mind.  
After the kitchen was cleaned the twin traipsed upstairs and Sam closed the door behind himself, shutting out the world so he and his brother could process what had happened down stairs.  
“We need to give him an answer, Dean.”  
“Yeah. I..., yeah. Just let me process it first.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three  
Cass and Gabe did end up staying that night. And Dean drove them to school in the morning, but he didn’t say anything to them, and they didn’t know what to say to him. They had just been witness to one of the most important moments of his life. A moment in which he’d totally flaked.  
It had always been his brother’s wish to be taken in by a family that they could trust and learn to love and who could love them. But Sam would never do that and risk being split up from Dean; too much of their lives had depended on them staying together. It was too well set into their beings for either of them to just walk away from each other. So, Dean had always known that if the day ever came where they were presented those papers it would be up to him to decide their fate, for better or for worse.  
When they got to school both sets of twins separated and Dean dragged his brother over to one of the outdoor tables in the courtyard where students ate lunch when it was warm and clear enough. He climbed into the table and sat down, his feet planted on the bench seat below him. Sam stood off to the edge and waited for whatever it was on Dean’s mind to work its way to his mouth.  
“So. I had the dream again.” Dean began.  
Whatever Sam had been waiting to hear, that wasn’t it, judging by the long indrawn breath. He sat down on the bench seat and leaned back, his elbows resting on the table. He looked out over the school lawn for a moment. The dream Dean mentioned was a recurring memory that had intensified over the years until it haunted Dean constantly.   
“The one where you killed the guy hovering over me?” it wasn’t a question. Only one nightmare haunted him so much that ‘the dream’ had officially becomes its name.  
But Dean nodded and looked up to find that his brother was watching the Novak brothers on the other side of the courtyard, both sitting at another outdoor table – on the bench seat like proper people do. Sam was really into Gabe. It had only been a couple of days, but Dean could tell when his brother was interested in a guy for more than just ‘a fuck’.  
“What do you need me to say, Dean? I think I’ve run out of advice for The Dream. You killed a man to protect me. He had his penis out and my pants down. Would you have done it differently?”  
“Fuck no!”  
“Then it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does. It was four years ago.”  
“Yeah, well, that ain’t stopping it from botherin me!”  
“Maybe it’s a subconscious thing. Maybe you’re haunted by the dream as a substitute. You’ve always wanted someone who could be trusted to take care of us and protect us from shit like that. And Bobby’s offering that. Now, suddenly you’re dreaming again.”  
“I have never wanted someone who could take care of us! I’ve always done fine doing it on my own.”  
“Except you’re haunted by the one time you had to kill to protect me.”  
“You know, I didn’t tell you to get a lecture.”’  
“Then why did you tell me?”  
“I … I uh, I don’t know.”  
“It’s because you don’t know how to answer Bobby’s proposal. You know I’m right.”  
“Dude, he just throws that shit in our faces and then expects us to, what, say yes on the spot?”  
“I don’t think he expected us to answer at that moment. I think he just wanted to give us an option. To let us know that we don’t have to leave, Dean. We can stay. We can be happy.”  
“You really want that, don’t you?”  
“I want a lot of things.” Sam replied, looking down and away from his brother.  
“Stop avoiding the question. You want to stay here. With Bobby. With Ellen and Jo.”  
“I want us to be safe. I want to go to school and make something of my life so that I don’t have to live on the streets and die in a cardboard box in a rat infested alley. But if living the way I want to means that I lose you…”  
“You’d never lose me, and you could still have the life you want. I just wouldn’t be in it.”  
“Are you saying you don’t want the life Bobby’s offering?”  
“No. And don’t give me that look, Sam.”  
Dean didn’t have to look at his brother to know the kind of look he was being given right now. Sam was sad that Dean could never truly be comfortable being confined to society’s restrictions. He was ‘born free’; never meant to be tamed. But Sam was different. He was the one who deserved to be happy and to live a real life.  
“So, is that a no you don’t want a real life?”  
“Stop being a bitch, will you. I want whatever makes you happy.”  
“Then you’ll stay and take the proposal?”  
“I’ll stay for as long as you need me.”  
Sam’s heart shattered and he was pretty sure Dean heard it. Dean shot him a look and then pushed down from the table.  
“Where are you going now?” Sam asked, following him.  
But it wasn’t Dean that answered; just as the older twin raised his finger above his head with a smirk, the bell went off, signalling the start of class.  
Sam rolled his eyes and hurried to catch up to his brother. “For someone who refuses to ‘fit in with society’ you’re certainly eager to get to class.” Sam teased.  
“Just makin sure you get an education, Sammy.”  
“Oh, right, and it has nothing to do with the fact at that we have class with the Novak brothers right now?”  
“You’re the one with the crush, don’t lump me in with your damn schemes to get it wet.”  
“I do not have a crush… right, ok, so maybe I do have a bit of a small crush. But don’t even try to tell me you’re not into his brother. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Sam argued.  
“Right, but I’m not the one who ‘fits in with society’, remember? It’s you who must make the family proud. All our hopes are pinned on you.”  
“Make the family proud, huh? Meaning you. You’re my only family, Dean. Your use of the term ‘our’ is opposed to the proper term you should have used which is ‘my’.”  
“Duh, no shit. And, stop using big fucking words, nerd. You know that pisses me off.”  
Big words. Right. Sam simply rolled his eyes and allowed his brother to lead the way to class.  
The subject of the dream and what Sam believed it meant didn’t come up again that day. Whether that was because Dean deliberately avoided the subject or because Gabriel was suddenly interested in making conversation – and that definitely had Dean’s stink all over it – Sam didn’t know.  
At lunch, Gabriel was still suddenly chatty. He even sat beside Sam at their table and filled the younger Winchester twin in on his life story leading up to him and his brother coming out to their own parents.  
“Mum fainted. And Dad blew a fuse. I swear I saw it explode in his head.” Gabe went on, either ignoring or not noticing Sam’s lack of interest. Just because Sam was crushing on this guy, didn’t mean he wanted to hear about his homophobic parents. He’d had to deal with that shit his whole life he did not want to deal with it any more.  
This was supposed to be a fresh start.  
“You know, Gabe, mum said you guys can stay with us for as long as you need to.” Jo chimed in as she finally joined them at the lunch table.  
“Tell your mum we said thank you. It will only be for another couple of days. Gabe rang our uncle last night and he’s making arrangements to come and get us.” Cass interjected.  
“Oh. What, you’re leaving?” Benny asked sadly.  
This made both Winchester boys perk up. Leave? But, but…  
But Cass shook his head. “No. It was agreed that it was best that we stay at school as we are so close to finishing. He will find a house here in town for us to share with him. He says he spoke to mother and father and they have agreed that they want nothing to do with us anymore so he’s ‘free to do with us as he pleases’ and they won’t fight him on it. Even said to pass on the message not to call them mum or dad any more. ‘It was Satan’s work that sent those boys to us and we must repent by disowning all knowledge of them’. Apparently it was a direct quote from my former mother.”  
Dean stared at him, mouth hanging like a tire swing on a sagging branch. “Mother fucker say what!” he suddenly blew up. Sam nodded like he agreed with the statement but didn’t add anything to it.  
“Cass is sensitive about the Novaks.” Gabe told them. “He’s suffered the most at their hands but he still takes it personally every time they attack him.”  
“Gabe, shut up. They don’t need to know every detail of our life.”  
“The hell we don’t! Spill! Have they ever hit you? Abuse you in any way? Just tell me and I’ll make it right.” Dean vowed.  
“He would too. Dean, stop it. You can’t go around bashing up everyone you don’t like. And for heaven’s sake, put the knife away!”  
Dean hadn’t even noticed he’d pulled out his knife until Sam said anything about it. Dean growled and did as he was told, reprimanded like only Sam could do.  
Who needed parents when you had a brother as cool as Sammy?  
Not Dean.  
They all seemed to be dicks anyway.  
“No, they never hit us.”  
“Speak for yourself, Gabriel.”  
Gabriel glanced at his brother in surprise. “You never told me that. That’s why you never liked being touched! He hit you with that damned belt of his, didn’t he?” he swore savagely and then turned to explain to Sam and Dean. “This belt of his is old army issue. Packs a punch. He once hit our brother Michael with it for disobedience. Even I felt the buckle reverberate in my teeth. The buckle is about an inch thick. Metal. And about is big as a saucer I swear.”  
“He hit you with this belt?” Dean spat, looking at Cass.  
His lack of answer was answer enough as far as Dean was concerned.  
Sam kicked his brother under the table and when Dean looked up at him he shook his head, mouthing “don’t do it.”  
Dean growled a bit and Sam knew Dean would listen to his warning and not do anything stupid. It was his ‘aww man, you party pooper, Sammy,’ growl. And right there, Sam thought he knew how to get his brother to stay. Dean was a protective being, if he thought someone needed saving he was the first one to jump in.   
And Dean was crushing on Castiel, wasn’t he?  
Dean was protective of no one more than the ones he cared about.   
SCORE!  
“Hey, Cass, you know Dean could protect you. You know, until your uncle gets here. He’s a good fighter and he hates homophobes. I bet, if you asked him, he might go with you to get your stuff from the house.” Sam offered.  
Dean shot his twin a glare and Sam ignored him. That was either a good thing… or it could be a bad thing. Who knew with Sammy?  
But he was distracted when Cass turned to glance at him pleadingly. “You’d do that? Help us get our things?”  
“Of course. I’d love to meet these parents of yours. See this belt Gabe was talking about. Tell me, has your father ever been hit with it?”  
This got Dean and Cass talking about their plans to go to the house once Chuck Novak showed up. Cass assured him that he wouldn’t need much in the way of a removalist vehicle and Gabe added that with both their rooms to pack up it would probably take a simple load in a Ute. Maybe a few things thrown into the back of Dean’s impala.  
“Alright, so, this afternoon, we’ll go and pick up a few things to get you through the week til your uncle gets here, yeah? You’re still staying with Jo’s parents?” Dean deliberately didn’t say Bobby or Ellen’s names; it felt too much like he was acknowledging their apparent relationship to him. Didn’t have to use the words aunt and uncle for them to be just that. And he wasn’t ready to call them anything of the sort just yet.  
Sam noticed his omission and shot him a quick look before looking away. No one else noticed anything amiss and Dean continued to talk to Cass about that afternoon’s errand. Jo and Benny and Charlie began discussing their computer classes and Sam and Gabe went on to talk to Crowley about Crowley’s mother possibly being available for Chuck to get some legal advice if he needed to fight the Novaks in court.  
“Jo’s been kind enough to talk her mother into letting us stay this week, I’ve always liked Bobby and Ellen.” Cass told Dean.  
“Actually, Jo didn’t talk her mother into it. Her mother offered even before Jo said anything.”  
“I’ve noticed you don’t like to say their names.”  
“And its not because I don’t like them. I do. I just don’t trust them.”  
“What does that mean? You live with them, right?”  
“It’s complicated. I wouldn’t expect you to understand unless you knew what kind of life my brother and I live, lived, whatever. It’s hard for me to trust anyone. The only person who hasn’t ever let me down is Sammy.”  
“Sammy?”  
“I’ve always called him Sammy.”  
“Yeah, and he’s the only one who gets to call me that. So don’t try it.” Sam spoke up, now sitting at the other end of the table with Gabe, Benny and Crowley.  
Dean smirked at Cass as he turned back to face Dean. “That’s true?” The blue eyed Novak asked.  
“Oh, deadly.” Dean answered seriously.  
“I consider myself forewarned then.” Cass replied.  
“Don’t worry, he’s not the fighter.” Dean teased.  
“No, but my back is covered by the one person who hates anyone calling me Sammy more than I do.” Sam answered, pointedly looking at Dean, who smirked again.  
“You guys are a couple of bad asses, aren’t you?” Benny observed.  
“He is.” Sam answered, pointing at Dean with the forefinger of the hand resting on the top of the table. Like he couldn’t even make the effort to fully extend the hand towards his brother. And something in the gesture had an air of ‘I’m down playing my own level of bad ass-ness, but I can kick ass too’ that made Benny take notice. “I leave the fighting to him.”  
Dean snickered. “He fails to mention there is one person in this entire world I trust to cover my ass.”  
“So, what, should we pray that we never see you pissed off?” Crowley asked.  
“You’ve seen me pissed off. What you need to do is pray that ‘pissed off’ does not turn into fighting for my life, or that of my brother.” Dean replied. His tone was so matter-of-fact. So simple and without arrogant self-importance.   
“I have to disagree with my brother. He wasn’t truly pissed off just before. He was angry, annoyed mostly, and definitely wanted to hit something – preferably a couple of homophobic parents, in the face, with a brick – but he wasn’t truly pissed off. I’ve seen him pissed off and that wasn’t it.” Sam argued.  
“Wait, that outburst about the Novaks? That’s what you mean? That’s him ‘just annoyed’? What does ‘severely pissed’ look like?”  
Sam and Dean exchanged a loaded look and silently both agreed not to share that secret.  
Not yet.  
Possibly not ever.  
“Not a good look, that’s for sure.” Sam told them.  
Every one saw the look the twins shared and knew there was something they weren’t telling them. And they all knew it wasn’t something they would share if they were pushed into it. The subject was dropped, just in time for the lunch bell to signal return to classes.  
Dean got up and dumped his tray and found that Cass had got up with him and they walked out together, talking about how Dean had gotten to be so protective of his brother and how he’d learned these fighting skills he’d been hearing about.  
“Sammy was… hurt, just before our dad died. It was just me and him. It was a matter of life or death. Anyway, I just… I’ve been protective ever since. But, just know that Sam and I have had it rough, alright? Your parents suck, but they were in the running for parent of the year compared to my father.”  
“Tell me?”  
“No. I don’t like talking about it.”  
“Please, Dean. You know about my parents.”  
Dean scoffed and shot the other teen a doubtful look. “My mother died when we were kids. My father drove us around the whole country looking for the nearest pub to get drunk. He’d leave us in the car in the parking lot of the seediest places you can think of. It was our only home in most cases. Which meant it became essential that it be kept running, whatever the cost. I learned to drive and repair all its faults before I was even old enough to see over the dashboard. And that’s the nice part. Life gets worse from there.”  
“Go on.”  
“As I said, I don’t like talking about it. If you want to hear about the adventures of Bitch-face and Go-Fuck-Yourself, ask my brother. Now, please, shut up and get to class.”  
Cass gave him a sad look and Dean hoped Cass would drop it. He didn’t want to go into the whole sordid story right now. He was still struggling with his trust issue when it came to accepting Bobby’s offer of adoption. Now Cass wanted him to spill his guts and tell him every nasty detail of his life on the streets?  
Sure, because Cass really wanted to hear about how his own father had taught them the lesson of trust; don’t trust a soul, everyone will screw you eventually; even your own father. He’d gone and cemented that lesson by croaking and leaving the twins alone in the world with no one to turn to, no one they could depend on to take care of them. They’d been fourteen when he’d downed that last shot of tequila. The Killer. Dean had begged him not to drink the shit. John had laughed and called Dean a pansy. ‘Too pathetic to drink like a real man’. The last words his father had ever said to him.  
And this was what Cass wanted to hear?  
Yeah, ah, nah. Not happening.  
His Death had forced the twins to grow up alone. It forced them to harden the fuck up and depend on no one but themselves and each other. And every time they made the mistake of ‘trusting’ someone they went and proved the truth in John’s lesson, over and over again; don’t trust anyone. It’s given him, and Sam too, scars that no other teen should have to bare; both physically and mentally. But they are fighters.   
Benny was right back there; Dean and Sam are bad asses, they’ve had to be. Growing up on the street isn’t for the faint of heart. They have an enduring attitude of ‘fuck with us, we’ll fuck with you right back’ that no foster parent wants to deal with. They live in denim, leather, army grade boots, and flannel. No one wants that brought into their Apple Pie life. So, where else were they expected to go?  
On the street, you learn quickly; sleep with one eye open, back to the wall, and always be prepared to defend what little scraps you can scrape together. They’d earned their reputation, him and Sam, both. That to mess with one Winchester, you messed with both of them. They talk big and they back up their talk with a well-stocked arsenal of weapons, which they carry with them in the car; blades, guns, even bats.  
After the last time they were caught unaware on the street, Dean had vowed never to let that happen again. He’d nearly lost his brother that night. The night from The Dream.  
The night he’d had a fight with Sam and walked off in a huff. The night he’d come back to find Sam being pinned to the ground by a drunk old guy looking for some cheap thrills.  
And Cass was standing there, waiting for Dean to blurt all of this out to him?  
Yeah! Right!  
School was uneventful for the rest of the day and the twins were so bored with their lessons that they nearly fell asleep in their Biology class. Crowley had to poke Dean with a skewer in the leg before the older Winchester twin even responded, even though he’d tried calling his name three times.  
“You just missed Novak doing a strip tease and dancing on the desk.” Crowley teased.  
“Oh, really? Wait, what! You’re kidding?”   
“Yes. Jeez, calm down.”  
“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”  
“Please, pretend I don’t care about you and Novak getting it on. In fact, don’t pretend. You’re a great guy, and Castiel is a very good friend, but seriously, it is not my idea of fun.”  
Dean scowled and punched the other teen in the arm, hard. “And you’re an ass. I did not fuck Cass last night.”  
“But he is staying at your house, right?”  
“Not my house. It’s Jo’s parents’ house. And yes, he’s staying there.”  
“So, why didn’t you fuck him?”  
“I thought you didn’t want to know about that?”  
“I don’t. But I’m curious. Is he, like a freak down there or something?”  
“Fuck you Fergus.” Dean snapped, knowing the use of Crowley’s real name would shut him up.  
It did more than shut him up; he stood up, picked up his books and his bag and moved to another desk up the front.  
“What was that about?” Sam asked.  
“I called him Fergus.”  
“Dude, why?” Sam snickered.  
“Because he was talking smack about me and Castiel. Asked me why I hadn’t tried to fuck him last night.”  
“So, you insulted him?”  
“Would you have preferred that I knock him the fuck out?”  
Sam just smirked and rolled his eyes.  
After that last class Dean saw Cass leave early, and right behind him was Alistair Morningstar. Dean frowned, wondering what that bully was up to now. But he and Sam were being held back, again, because their teacher, Mrs Rogers, wanted to see how they were fitting in with the other students.  
Which was why, by the time they finally made their big break and escaped the building towards their car, the fight in the parking lot was already well under way, with a large ring of spectators.  
Dean noticed it first and smacked his brother’s chest with the back of his hand and jerked his chin in the direction. “What’s that about? Have you heard about any fights happening today?”  
“No. But it definitely looks like a big one.”  
“Yeah, come on.” It would go without saying that Dean’s ‘watch my back’ may have been left unsaid as they approached to break up the fight, but it hung between them as loud and clear as the school bell. They’d reached a point in their lives that ‘watch my back’ was an instinct for them.  
So, as Dean pushed his way through the crowd, Sam stayed on him and then turned to pace the perimeter of the crowd while Dean marched forward. He reached out and secured a firm grip into the head of hair hovering over the kid on the ground and then reefed backwards; jerking the teen back and off balance to land on his ass behind Dean.  
There, on the ground, staring up at him in shock and surprise, was Castiel Novak. Dean growled and snarled as he rounded on the other kid – Alistair Morningstar. Of course. He’d seen the kid leave right after Castiel. He should have figured it out then.  
Alistair scrambled back on his hands and feet like a crab, but that only pissed Dean off further as he advanced. Then Dean stopped and smirked. Alistair stopped too, but only because he’d run into someone standing behind him and he looked up, and up, and up. Sam.  
Sam crouched down and whispered into his ear, “Don’t make him chase you. Stand up and be a man.”  
Dean reached down and grabbed hold of Alistair’s ankle and gave one almighty tug, pulling him to within reaching distance so that Dean could grab hold of his shirt and pull him to his feet. With Alistair on his feet, Dean shifted his grip to the back of his neck and he turned to shove the kid in front of Castiel. Alistair stumbled with the force of Dean’s action and he fell to his knees in front of Castiel. He felt Dean move in behind him and suddenly his head was reefed back so violently that his neck popped a little bit. He hissed in pain, but he was ignored.   
Dean leaned down to his ear. “Look at him. You do that to him?”  
Castiel’s face was a bloodied mess. One eye was already swollen shut and the other one had a giant gash above it; it would probably need stitches. His lip, too, was bleeding and his whole face looked like he’d been thrown face first into the gavel and then dragged behind a car. His shirt was ripped and there was a new hole in the knee of his jeans, so Dean could only imagine what other injuries his friend had.  
“I asked you a question.” Dean snarled. And this time, his blade, running the length of his arm, was pressed into Alistair’s throat.  
“Yes. I did it.”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t know. He’s gay. I guess I don’t like gay people.”  
“WHY!” Dean snapped. “Tell him why he had to endure your homophobic bullshit, just for being himself? Has he ever used his sexual preferences to hurt you?”  
“No.”  
“Then he tried to fuck you?”  
“No.”  
“So, then you tried to fuck him and he turned you down?”  
“No.”  
“THEN WHY! WHY DID YOU HURT HIM!”  
“I DON’T KNOW! PLEASE, DON’T HURT ME!”  
“But you hurt him!”  
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”  
“Let this be your only lesson on the matter. His name is Castiel Novak. He has a twin brother named Gabriel. My brother happens to care about these people. You may call them the gay squad. And I care, very much, about my twin brother so you can call me their bodyguard. The last time I had to protect my brother, the other guy did not walk away. Nod if you understand.”  
Alistair nodded vehemently and Dean removed the blade from his throat. He stepped back and then shoved the other teen away from Castiel, in the direction of where his brother would see to it that he vacated the vicinity without further dramas.  
That left Dean to turn back to Castiel and help him to his feet. “Can you stand on your own?” he asked.  
“I can stand, but not on my own. I don’t think anything is broken, but I might have sprained my ankle. He shoved me pretty hard and I landed awkwardly on my side.”  
“Fine, so lean against me, I’ll get you to the car and have a look.”  
“Hey, thanks for breaking it up. But he’s not going to rest now. You made him cry in front of an audience.”  
“I’ll deal with it when the time comes. But I won’t let him hurt you again.”  
“Funny, you said that about my parents at lunch today.”  
“And I meant what I said.”  
“I’m beginning to feel like maybe I should be paying you for this protection.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need to pay me for anything.”  
“You said it yourself, ‘call me their bodyguard’, that’s what you said.”  
“I said that to him to get rid of him. I did not say it for your ears to tell your brain to conceive the notion that I have to be paid to do it. If it makes you feel any better I lumped my own brother in with you; him, I protect for free.”  
They were at the car now and Dean opened the back door for Castiel to sit down. Once the other teen was seated Dean crouched down in front of him and lifted the injured leg to his knee so he could remove his shoe and the sock. Cass hissed in pain and then sucked in a deep breath around another one, biting at his knuckles as Dean poked and prodded the foot.  
“Well, you were right; it ain’t broken, but you’re gonna have a nice size football for a few days.” Dean told him.  
“Thanks for the comfort.”  
“Hey, I was being comforting. If it had been Sam I’d have just told him to suck it up.”  
“You’d have also probably told me to walk it off rather than carry my sorry ass to the car.” Sam quipped as he approached and leaned against the side of the car.  
Gabriel showed up then, out of breath and panicked. “Someone told me Alistair was trying to kill my brother!”  
“I’m fine. Dean broke it up. It’s just a sprained ankle.” Cass told him.  
Sam sighed and handed Dean a wet cloth from the boot of the car and Dean nodded his silent thanks as he reached up and dabbed at the cut over Cass’s eye.  
Cass hissed in pain and jerked away. “What the fuck. That hurt!”  
“Suck it up, buttercup. It’s supposed to hurt, it’s Dettol. It’ll clean the cut so I can look at it. It might need stitches.”  
“Oh, and I suppose you’re gonna tell me you’ll do that as well?” Cass asked sarcastically.  
“Why, you want me to?” Dean replied, seriously. “I can if you want, but I was going to get Sam to do it, he sews straighter.”  
Cass stared at him stupidly. Dean stared back, waiting for him to give him an answer.  
Finally Cass burst out with an annoyed grunt and shoved at Dean’s chest. “Get me to the hospital, you idiot. They’ll do it.”  
“Oh. Yeah, right, of course. Sorry.” Dean made a few movements, not looking at Castiel as he stood and tried to get Cass into the car gently. He threw the rag in for Cass and then walked around to the driver’s side and got in. he heard Gabe get in the back with his twin and Sam climbed in the front with him.   
Only Sam could tell Dean was blushing furiously and knew the kind of thoughts that were going through his head; probably berating himself for not thinking like a ‘normal’ person. Of course Castiel would want to get the stitiches done at the hospital; he wasn’t a ‘street rat’.   
Dean was a true product of the streets; nothing came for free and all doctoring had to be done by your own hand, or you died. Survival of the fittest. There was no such thing as a weak homeless teen.  
So, they drove to the hospital and Dean carried Castiel – literally carried; bridal style – from the car to the ER front desk. The triage nurse came out with a wheel chair and then took their names and the reason for their visit.  
“His name’s Castiel Novak. He was beaten up at school. He sprained his ankle and cut his head.” Gabriel told her.  
He and his brother sat in conference with the nurse while Dean moved to the other side of the room, as far away as he could get from ‘more society’. Damn, it was just coming at him from every angle lately. He felt claustrophobic in here.  
His brother appeared then and held out a paper cup of water for him. “Just remember to breathe, Dean.”  
“Thanks for that, smartass.”  
“I actually wasn’t being a smartass. You look like you’re about to bolt, or pass out.”  
Dean didn’t respond. But he did drink from the cup.  
“Did you call Ellen or Bobby?” Sam asked.  
“No. Why?”  
“Ah, to tell them why we’re going to be late home? Or maybe just to tell them that Castiel is in the hospital?”  
“Why would they care? Castiel isn’t their son.”  
Sam sighed. The sad thing was, Dean wasn’t being a jerk. He just genuinely didn’t grasp the concept that even though Castiel wasn’t Ellen or Bobby’s son, they had taken him in to their home and they did actually care.  
“I’ll do it.” Sam told him and headed out the door with his phone in his hand.  
Dean was alone again, but not for long when Gabe appeared. “Cass is in being stitched up. Thank you for saving my brother’s life back there, Dean.”  
“Don’t mention it.”  
“No, seriously. I have to. Alistair has been at Cass for ages. I don’t know why he picks on Cass so much, but he always knows when to get to him and hurt him the most. My brother is a good guy, Dean. He really is. But no one ever gets to see that. Our parents never treated him the same way they treated even me before I told them I was gay. And now he gets this crap at school, too?”  
“It’s alright, it won’t happen again.”  
“It’s not alright, Dean. Any time something bad happens, it always happens to Cassie. I can never protect him. From any of it! And now he’s in the hospital because of it. I’m weak.”  
“So, then harden the fuck up. Is that what you wanted me to say?”  
“How? How do I harden up? How can I stand up against my own parents?”  
“You got him out of there, didn’t you? What’d you do to achieve that?”  
Gabriel gaped at him for a moment and then nodded. “I stood up to them and told them that Cass isn’t the only gay son they have and if they’re going to throw Cass out, they’d better throw me out too.”  
“So, there you go. You do know how to protect him. He’s coming.” Dean pushed passed the older Novak twin and approached the nurse wheeling Cass over to them. His face was all cleaned, the gash stitched closed and his ankle was bandaged.  
“What’s the verdict?” he asked.  
“Deep laceration to the eye. Six stitches. And a borderline fracture in my ankle. It’ll take six weeks to heal. Just have to wait for them to bring out a pair of crutches and then we can go.”  
“Or we can have him fitted with a moon boot?” The nurse offered. Meg, her name tag said.  
“Nah, we’ll take the crutches. I suppose I can carry you wherever you need to go without the crutches. Upstairs and shit like that.” Dean shrugged.  
“Are you sure? A moon boot might be easier at school. It’ll keep the ankle more stable, too.” the nurse added.  
“Dean, actually, I think I might have those boots. Thank you nurse.” Cass agreed.  
Dean blushed and glared at the floor. He couldn’t stitch the guy’s head, and now he wasn’t strong enough to carry him around? Of course not. Not like he was anything to Castiel.  
“I’ll go get the car then, shall I? I can’t possibly fuck that up, right?” he snapped. He turned on his hell and marched out, shoulder barging past his brother on the way out.  
“Dean!” Sam called back. But when Dean didn’t stop or turn around he faced Cass in the wheelchair. He’d have asked his friend what had happened but the look on his face suggested Cass was just as confused as he was. He did ask, “What’s happening?” to the other twins thinking they were ready to go.  
“The nurse gave me six stitches and she’s just gone to get me a moon boot for my ankle. Do you know why Dean would say he’d carry me everywhere with crutches?”  
“Uhh. Oh. I get it now. Look. I told you before, Dean’s a very protective person. You go hurt. On his watch. And you refused his offer to stitch you himself. And now you obviously chose the boot over his offer to carry you… do you see where this is going?”  
“No. Sorry.”  
“He wanted to stitch your head. To take care of you…”  
“Wait, he was serious about that?”  
“We grew up on the street, Cass, we didn’t have the luxury of a doctor every time we got hurt. If our father was good for one thing it was teaching us ‘army field medicine’. And then you refused his next offer to take care of you when he said he’d carry you.”  
“I didn’t refuse his off… did I? I thought he was just being macho, or something… he really wanted to carry me everywhere? But, why would he do that? Not like I mean anything to him. I’m just… his friend, right?”  
Unfortunately, that was when Dean came back in.  
All colour drained from his face and he bit out, “Car’s out front.” Before pivoting on his heel. He walked out, leaving Sam and Gabriel to help Cass get the moon boot on when the nurse brought it out for him. She also handed him a pair of crutches in case he chose to use them.  
When they got Cass out the door Dean was leaning against the hood of the car with his ankles crossed in front of him and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t move to help them, and he didn’t open the door for them either. He was stewing. Sam could tell.  
The all got in once Cass was in the back and Dean drove them all home in silence. Sam even tried to turn the radio on, but Dean flicked it off again with such a decisive snap of his wrist that it left no room for argument.  
Dean was definitely stewing.  
“Dean…” Sam began.  
“Shut it.” Dean said quietly. His dangerous tone. A tone he’d never used on Sam before.  
“Did you just use that tone on me? Seriously?”  
“I said shut up, Samuel.”  
“No! I won’t shut up. You’re a big baby.”  
“Knock it off.”  
“Make me.”  
Dean grumbled something under his breath but didn’t react to his brother’s taunts.   
In the back Cas and his own twin exchanged nervous looks. They were aware that the Winchester brothers both had tempers, and while they’d never seen evidence of it, they’d also never seen them fight between each other either.  
“Get him out and up stairs, I’ll be in later.” Dean said after a while and it was then that Cass and Gabe realised they were outside of the Singer’s house. Sam looked into the back seat and nodded for Gabe to help his brother.  
It was a struggle, since obviously Sam wasn’t going to help, and Dean kept revving the engine like he was about to drive off whether Cass and Gabe were out of the car or not. Gabe was annoyed that Sam refused to help, but what didn’t realise was that in sitting in his seat, Sam was actually keeping Dean from driving off. It also meant that when Dean did drive off, he had no choice but to take Sam with him.  
Because Sam would be damned if he let his brother go without going with him to hash this out.  
Sam made Dean wait and watch until the other twin pair were inside the house before he allowed his brother drive away. And not long after that Sam had his brother talking.  
“So, what’s gotten into you today? No. Wait. I’ve seen that look. I’ve seen it before. That fight with Alistair at school. That woke something in you. I know it did. You carried Castiel to the car afterward. And wanted to stitch him up. There is only one person in this world you would try to take care of like that. And I’m sitting right here with you.”  
Dean shot his brother an annoyed look. “I wish you would stay out of my head, Sam.”  
“You care about him.” It wasn’t a question and it didn’t require a response. “But he doesn’t realise it. Of course he wouldn’t. He doesn’t know you like I do.”  
“Why does it matter? He said so in the hospital, I don’t mean a thing to him. I’m just ‘a friend’.”  
“He didn’t say you don’t mean anything to him. He said he doesn’t mean anything to you. He thinks you don’t care about him, Dean. You haven’t given him any reason to think you do, I know you.”  
“What am I supposed to do? What more could I possibly do? I told him I could do his head! I even said I’d help him get around.”  
“Dude, you’re speaking my language, not his!”  
“What does that mean?” Dean exclaimed.  
“It means that he didn’t grow up on the streets, Dean. He’s not likely to know what it means for someone to be their personal bodyguard, or their private doctor.”  
“So?”  
“So, how about, instead of telling him you’ll carry him up a flight of stairs, how about you tell him that you’d like to kiss him.”  
Dean shot his brother a dirty look.  
“Dean, it means the same thing, sort of. At least, it kind of does. It means that you care about him.”  
“I care about you, that don’t mean I wanna tear your fucking clothes off!”  
“No, but it is what you mean when you refer to how you feel about Castiel.”  
“But I don’t trust him. He’s just going to turn around and betray us.”  
“How can you be so sure, Dean? You have fought tooth and nail to hold onto your lack of trust in the world. Aren’t you tired?”  
“I trust people.”  
“Yeah? Like who? And I don’t count.”  
Dean shot him another filthy look.  
“I trust Jo.” Dean finally said, trying to be sincere.  
“Yeah? You do, do you? So, you’ve told her everything about what we’ve had to do to survive?” Sam prompted. Dean didn’t respond so Sam added, “You trust her so much that you would let her drive the car?” Dean cleared his throat. Sam went on, “You trust Jo so implicitly that you would leave my life in her hands?”  
“What! Hell no! Never!” Dean snapped, knowing, even as he answered, that he had fallen into his brother’s trap. The three biggest signs of trust for Dean; the three things he guarded so closely; his life, his car, and his brother. To be given either one you know you’ve won half the battle. To hold all three and… well, no one knew.  
“But you feel something for Cass?”  
“Yes. That’s obvious.”  
“Then give him something.”  
“Like what?”  
“Tell him a story. Tell him why it’s so hard for you to show how you feel.”  
“Tell him what?”  
“Tell him The Dream.”  
“What! Fuck no! Not that.”  
“Ok, then what about telling him about the time you met a guy you thought you could trust and he totally screwed us both over. And you went on a rampage after he drugged us and stole the keys to Baby and took her for a joy ride.”  
“Tell him something about why I don’t trust people? I could try that.”  
They drove around for another hour or so before Dean finally turned the car around towards the house. When they got there Bobby was waiting for them on the porch. “Just checking to see if you boys got home ok, is all. One day, maybe you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me what’s going on. But, right now Ellen’s got dinner ready, go wash up and get some grub.”


End file.
